Wonderland
by PallaPlease
Summary: [Harry/Leena]  Six years after the end of the series.  Two well-meaning (but dysfunctional) angels have been given the mission of making a Christmas miracle...[Working On]
1. I

Wonderland  
  
*  
  
"They're taking too much time," Luanne grouched, folding her slender brown arms over her chest, a dark scowl on her oval face. Impatiently brushing a strand of her silver hair out of her black-flecked brown eyes, she glowered at the clock hanging on the coffee shop's wall. "If *this* plan doesn't work…" She left the sentence unfinished, hanging threateningly over her and her somewhat lazy partner.  
  
"Ah, relax, m' cherie," smiled Pierre in his ever-relaxed way, dark blue eyes twinkling enigmatically as always behind his lowered sunglasses. "They will be here, do not worry." His slightly French accent irritated her, for some reason, and she swallowed some of her rather nasty coffee in one defiant, burning gulp. A few seconds later, when she gagged on it and choked, sputtering shortly, he merely smiled wider and flipped through the pages of his just-purchased newspaper, whistling an annoyingly bright song - one she recognized through her sudden lack of oxygen as being "The Purple People Eater." With his infuriating calm personality, Pierre suggested lightly, "Perhaps you should swallow before you breathe. Might go down smoother, wei?" She pounded the table with the palm of her hand, gasping as soon as she managed to force down the hot drink. Shaking the newspaper, he gave her a blinding smile, answering himself with: "Wei."  
  
"I," she gasped out, shoving her dangling silver hair away from her face, "detest…you!" Luanne inhaled deeply and straightened her spine, glaring dangerously at him.  
  
"I am wondering," he continued, ignoring her dirty look, "did you send out the letters in order to set them up? It would be," he added, as she suddenly smacked her forehead and let out a despairing half-sob, "most helpful to our cause if you did."  
  
Luanne merely made a pathetic sound and, turning to the side, began banging her head against the wall to the surprise and amusement of various people in the café.  
  
  
  
  
Leena hurried through the crowd as quickly as she dared, clutching her bags tighter to herself and rolling her lips together as the cold wind pushed harder against her. A few snowflakes drifted down, here and there, and as much as she wanted to stay and wait for them to fall faster, thicker, she had no time. An anxious check of her watch reinforced her fears. Ten minutes left until the café closed, and she needed a warm drink from her day of shopping before going home - back to her small, silent home. Shifting the heavy bags piled up in her arms, neatly wrapped presents (thank God, she thought briefly, for present-wrapping services at the department stores) stacked up in a not-so-neat manner, she doubled her pace, loose slacks shifting with each movement, her tacky green-and-red Christmas vest flapping quickly. The sky was already inky black and the clouds sheening over it were dark grey, occasional tiny dots of white spurting out from the cloud cover and twirling like odd ballerinas to the Earth. Craning her neck slightly around one of her enormous bags, she checked the time again. Eight minutes to go.   
  
"I'm not going to make it," she grumbled, making a sharp turn around the corner and muttering darkly to herself. Again, she quickened her pace, knowing that the cozy coffee shop was nearby. If only, she thought with a mental laugh at herself, she had remembered where it was exactly! Leena skirted around a happily chattering teenage couple - a wiry boy with delicate glasses and a husky girl with a cheerfully smiling round face - and wished them a better Christmas than she was going to have. God knew she needed some outer help in saving her dwindling toyshop.   
  
She knew she should have taken Leon and Naomi up on their offer to let her stay with them and their kids over the holidays - it would be a heckuva lot less stressful for her, and it would have given her a chance to visit with her nephews. But still…she'd left the Zoids Competitions for a reason, and she didn't need to be bombarded constantly from all sides by a family that participated, albeit not frequently, in Zoids activities.   
  
Funny, though, that she couldn't remember why she'd left. A quick flash of memory passed through her mind and she cursed the infallible timing of her remembrance.  
  
Finally, as she was busy musing over her current predicament, Leena almost ran into a little handpainted sign with a jovial Santa Claus statue holding it, but managed to pull away from it just in time. Of course, as fate (or God) would have it, the Santa-sign was propped up outside of the coffee shop she had been looking for. Absently setting her bags to the ground, she dug in her pockets and pulled out a few dollar bills and two or three dimes fisted in her hand. Carefully, she fed the money into the slot cut in the hollow statue's forehead. The sound of the money finally clinking, near the bottom, made her frown - people were less generous this season than ever before, it seemed.  
  
With a sigh, she picked her bags up, grunting momentarily at the sudden weight, then maneuvered her way into the tiny shop.  
  
  
  
  
"Look who just walked in the door, cherie," Pierre said suddenly, and Luanne looked up from her self-discipline (if, in truth, it could be called that). "Leena - the girl."  
  
Luanne blinked, once again swiping at the stubborn forelocks that kept falling in front of her eyes, obscuring her vision blurrily. "What are the odds?" she muttered, unrolling her sleeves from where she had pushed them up to her shoulders. As Pierre softly intoned something to himself that sounded rather like '1 in 3,400,908,000,' she stood up and shook her arms lightly, eyes glowing for a moment. "Right, then," she continued after a moment, her tone shifting from disgruntled to satisfied. "Voice says we need to get Harry here, then - sounds like a manipulative job." Her gaze flickered across to Pierre, who paused in his hasty scribbling of numbers, abbreviations, and theorems (all of which made no sense to anyone but him), and she grinned. "Guess who's going."  
  
He smiled disarmingly. "Obviously not you," he all but laughed, instead settling for taking her smooth, dark hand and kissing one of the knuckles tenderly as he, too, stood up. "It would appear that I, Monsieur Pierre, master of--"  
  
"Manipulation," Luanne added helpfully, gently prying her hand out of his grasp and seating herself back down, sipping gingerly at her cooled coffee.  
  
He frowned at her, somewhat miffed, then his expression cleared slightly as he admitted, "Wei, wei." Straightening his tie and swinging his jacket up, and on, Pierre bowed his head slightly. "I am off."  
  
"No kidding," she retorted, casting a momentary glance at the clock. "You better hurry though," warned Luanne, eyes worriedly settling on Leena's form as she leaned across the counter to ask the motherly woman behind it for a drink of some sort. "It looks like Leena is getting a coffee to go, and the store's closing in about five minutes. We haven't got much time to pull this off."  
  
"Don't worry," he said dismissively, waving his hand a little bit and blinking both his eyes decisively and quickly. In a heartbeat, he had vanished in a swirl of nigh invisible red hearts that swiftly popped out of existence.   
  
A few of the small number of people still in the shop lifted their heads and wondered, only for a few seconds, where the handsome companion to the cute black woman had gone.   
  
"I wish he wouldn't do that," Luanne sighed quietly, kneading the bridge of her nose.  
  
  
  
  
Five days until Christmas Eve, Harry thought darkly to himself, five flippin' days, and the servants take holiday before anything can get done! It was one of the worst situations he'd ever been in, and he was not enjoying it at all. He didn't know the simplest thing about decorating a house or organizing a party for aforementioned Christmas Eve, and he vowed to never volunteer his services during the Christmas season again - especially with both parents off on some cruise, Mary off with her latest boytoy (some horrid guy from Spain who only spoke one word of English - "yes"), and the servants taking holiday. It was enough to drive him almost insane.   
  
It also made him wonder - in a way, he was still the immature teenager he'd been some six years ago, back when he was seventeen and obsessed with one Leena, but he felt far more mature…if less independent. So…why was it so hard to do something on his own? He'd done it before.   
  
Shoving off the glass windows overlooking a gaudy display of wreaths, fancy gold decorations, and the traditional colorful lights, he shook his head doggedly, reminding himself that he was out, at 9: 6 PM, for a reason - to find suitable decorations for the annual Christmas party his family was renowned for. (So why the heck was he running it by himself? Some 'family' party, indeed!) Harry exhaled in a whoosh, his breath coalescing in a momentary cloud of puffing white moisture. The night was cold, a sure sign for a white Christmas.  
  
There was a sudden little tingling in the back of his head, an idea that took root out of nowhere. Why not, a part of his mind offered, go to that little café around the corner? It shouldn't take long to get a cappuccino, he reasoned, and I can finish looking afterwards. The wind whipped up again, colder and brisker, tempting him further - not that it took much to convince him.  
  
So, with great resolve, and after cinching his coat tighter about himself, the twenty-three year old billionaire set off down the sidewalk, moving steadily toward the shop.   
  
Thank-you, thank-you, Pierre thought with a grin, stepping out from behind the absurd plastic candy cane decoration that more than hid him from view with its size. His hands glowed light red for a moment more, then it faded and, with a jaunty whistle, he tugged on his gloves, smoothing out the wrinkles in the creamy leather.   
  
You are all so kind - please, hold your applause…  
  
  
  
  
The amber liquid in the Styrofoam cup the woman had handed her was steaming and released a wonderful smell that tickled Leena's nostrils pleasantly. The only problem, of course, was how on Earth she was supposed to carry it, while lugging her bags back to her car - which, conveniently, was quite a few blocks away, in the public parking lot. She bit her lower lip; unconsciously sweeping her raggedly cut pink hair behind one soft ear and frowning a tiny bit. A sigh escaped her lips as she loosened her jaw, and she bent down, threading her arm through the insanely small handles of the bags, lifting them slowly with her forearm, elbow and wrist crooked so as to prevent them from sliding off. Once she had unfolded herself to her natural height, she flashed a triumphant smile at the woman behind the counter, carefully picking up her small coffee. Score! she thought happily.   
  
And as she turned around, taking a step forward, she ran right into the chest of one very tall man, bouncing back and landing painfully on her rear end. She yelped, startled, her coffee thrown into the air and the liquid spilling all over her pants and the man's as well. The Styrofoam cup landed and rolled in a few circles, oblivious to the suddenly soaked legs of the two people.  
  
"I am so sorry!" both said at the same time, and they blinked. "Are you okay?" they said, once more in unison. This time, instead of blinking, they each blushed, a bit flustered and a bit embarrassed.  
  
"Here, let me help you," the man offered, quickly moving to his feet and holding his hand out for her, sandy brown hair in disarray. "I am so incredibly sorry," he apologized again, as Leena pulled herself up with his help, tilting her face down as she grasped the edges of her slacks and tugged the wet fabric away from her legs with a suction sort of sound coming from the motion. He glanced at the thick pile of napkins perched on the counter - the woman had left in a hurry to find a mop - and snatched up several, holding those out, now. "Here," he offered again, feeling a smidgen useless.  
  
"Thanks," Leena smiled, lifting her face and dabbing at her pants with the napkins. "You better get some for yourself." His jaw dropped; he was staring at her like he'd seen a ghost. Oh, God, she thought distantly, I've got something on my face! Please don't let it be from my nose… He was oddly familiar, though, but he wasn't overwhelmingly so. The closest mental similarity she could find was of to Harry - who had never been so…well…aesthetically mature.  
  
"Leena?" he gaped, even wider than she had when the accident had occurred.  
  
The voice was suddenly far more familiar than the face.  
  
"Harry?" She resembled a fish out of water.  
  
  
  
  
Pierre waltzed in through the door, avoiding the quickly spreading pool of coffee and still whistling. "Well," he smiled beautifully at Luanne as he seated himself across from her, leaning forward and pecking her cheek briefly, "I think it's going rather well, don't you?"  
  
"They're just standing there," she replied flatly. She looked at the two again, and then returned her gaze to Pierre. "Correction, they're standing there and staring at each other with their jaws unhinged."  
  
"They could just be struck speechless by how pleasing the other looks?" he suggested. "Especially that Leena girl - she isn't unattractive."  
  
Luanne gave him a withering look. "At least," she conceded, "stage one is completed."  
  
  
*  
  
  
End AN: Hmm. Set-up-y! And that's the first part. Yay. ;] I'll have the next three parts up by tomorrow, if anybody out there cares. Or is reading this.   
  
Summaries for upcoming parts -  
  
In Part II: Harry and Leena go out to eat and reminisce over the good ol' days (back when Harry worshipped Leena, and she showed her affection to anyone and everyone by abusing the crap out of them - most significant being, of course, Harry) and find out what the other's been up to. (Leena: much. Harry: not much.) [Some Harry-type angst near end.]  
  
In Part III: Leena calls Harry and she comes over to his house (*cough*mansion*cough*) to help him decorate. Fun with emotions! [And lotsa WAFF - Warm And Fuzzy Feeling.]  
  
In Part IV: The overly sentimental lovey-dovey ending. Bah, humbug. 


	2. Unfortunate Notice...

Unfortunate Notice..  
  
*  
  
This should be brief: I've lost the disk containing Wonderland. *winces* The really horrific thing is that I'd already finished the second part and was beginning the third when I set it down someplace - and, promptly, forgot where I put it. I apologize.  
  
As soon as I find the disk, however, expect the second part to be uploaded immediately and the third part finished quickly so it may be uploaded soon, as well. [After all, it won't be that weird for me to have a Christmas fic in late December/early January - I have the tendency to write Christmas fics year-round.]  
  
So.please forgive me!  
  
~PallaPlease.  
  
12/27/01.  
  
[I support the following ZOIDS couples:  
  
Harry/Leena  
  
Jamie/Pierce aka Wild Eagle/Pierce {semi-same thing}  
  
Leon/Naomi  
  
Brad/Leena {just a teensy-weensy bit}  
  
.And, every once in a long while, a dash of Brad/Naomi. Not often. *laughs*]  
  
Quote of the Day~  
  
"The only thing scarier than a pyromaniac is a pyromaniac with a Teletubby. And a lighter, I guess."  
  
~Internet, meet my brain. Brain: Internet. Internet: Brain. 


	3. II

Wonderland  
  
*  
  
"What are *you* doing here?" cried the two at once, still goggling at each other. The woman had returned with a mop and a bucket; she gave them both an odd look, one eyebrow raised and the other eye narrowed doubtfully, as she proceeded to barge between the two, mopping up the still spreading puddle of coffee. The wooden handle smacked Harry in the face as she 'mopped' right across. His hand flew up to his nose and he touched it lightly, automatically feeling to find if he was bleeding or if the skin was tender. Briefly, he glared at the woman.  
  
"Well," Leena was saying, being the first to answer the communal question, "I'm pretty sure I was getting a coffee--" Here she glanced meaningfully down where the Styrofoam cup remained, an oasis in a squeaky, shiny lake of tiles. "--as you can tell." Balling up the pile of dampened napkins, she glanced down at them, frowning as she realized she had nowhere to put them. The mop-woman quickly remedied this situation - she firmly took the ball of napkins and stalked off. Apparently, she was not happy with either of the two for spoiling her clean floor. A moment of silence ensued and Harry, suddenly feeling a reactionary twinge of shyness, fiddled with his thumbs, glancing down at the floor. The bags she'd been carrying were spilled across the floor, revealing a few toys, and several wrapped packages.  
  
"You, uh," he started, mentally kicking himself - real eloquent, Harry, he thought, what a way with words. Clearing his throat, he started again. "You've dropped your bags...Leena." It felt odd to be saying that name again, after...what? Six years? If it felt odd, it also felt remarkably...right. He shook his head lightly, stooping down beside Leena, who was crouching, stuffing parcels back into department store bags, setting them upright. Grasping a small, enormously plush teddy bear, Harry picked it up and smiled lightly, if not without an old trace of bitterness. It was the kind of plump, adorable teddy that was to be given to a lover or a child, and the old twinge of fondness for the brash woman beside him was back, lightly.   
  
Damn! Not now! There were far too many embarrassing moments tied up with his old, forgotten emotions for her, and he did not need them at any point!  
  
"Who's the toy for?" he asked, anyway, before he could stop himself. He was thankful, though, that his question sounded innocent and harmless, as if he was simply curious to know.   
  
"My niece," Leena replied, turning to look at him with a soft smile, something she had never used before. "She loves teddy bears and I decided to pay a little extra at my shop for this one." Seeing his somewhat confused expression, she laughed, taking the bear and placing it on top of a boxed toy car. With her old gusto, she slapped Harry on the back and he was shoved forward a bit, the air rushing out of his lungs at the force. "I own a toy shop!" she informed him cheerfully, not noticing him gasping and holding his hand to his chest. "Tauros Toys; it's on the other side of town. I live upstairs of it." Finally, she noted Harry's reddened complexion as he tugged at his shirt. "Something the matter?" she questioned.  
  
"No," he wheezed out, running a hand through his short brown hair. "Perfectly...fine!" He flashed a thumbs-up sign at her and she smiled again, scooping her bags up on her arms and standing up. He made a face, unfolding himself to his full height. "So," he began.  
  
"Shop's closing!" the woman yelled from behind the counter, unplugging the coffee machine. "If you want to gab, then go over there!' She jabbed a finger over the top of the counter, indicating an incredibly bright building that read "Anything Goes Café, Restaurant, and Books" over the equally bright glass door. Grumbling could be heard emanating from under the counter: "mess up my tiles...make a mess, stand there yakking away...what does this look like, a Starbucks?"  
  
Harry grinned sheepishly and Leena snorted, rolling her eyes. "New management," she whispered to him, although it was more of a stage whisper due to his taller frame. "She's rather mean."  
  
He coughed into his hand, grinning, and Leena motioned with her thumb out the window. "Might as well take up her suggestion, ne?"  
  
"Right," he nodded, cheeks turning a light pink, to his inner mortification. "Um, you lead the way."   
  
Idiot, he scolded mentally as he followed the bags-laden woman out. You're over being a shy, over-bearing romantic!   
  
  
  
  
"Well, that wasn't very kind of her," Luanne muttered darkly, glaring over her shoulder at the coffee shop manager and grimacing at the rude woman. "I've decided I'm never going there again."  
  
"I don't know," Pierre said sweetly in reply, clamping his arms about her waist and swinging her up into his arms, regardless of her coattails flying up and her booted feet smacking his abdomen. "I find you quite alluring when you are angry, my sweet." TO top it off, he flashed a gleaming, perfect smile at her, pursing his lips slightly.  
  
Furious at her responding blush, she kicked her foot back, catching him in the ribs. "Put me down," she hissed, face unnaturally warm, "and don't look like you're going to kiss me!" With that, she kicked backwards again, and he grunted quietly, setting her down swiftly before he dropped her unflatteringly. Sweeping her hands down along her coat, she glared at the French angel for a moment, then tossed her silver hair, turning her back to him. "You have no right to treat me that way," she spoke icily.  
  
"But love," he all but whined, tentatively placing his hands on her slim shoulders, "I was only trying to show you my aff--" The next thing Pierre knew, he was upside down, face first in a drift of snow that had been shoveled up to the curb by a plow.   
  
"We--are--on--duty!!" she screamed, scaring the living daylights out of a nearby group of nuns, who all backed away from her. She kicked him and proceeded to continue her yelling; most of it went along the lines of how they were *supposed* to be getting Harry and Leena together, and he was trying to cop a feel off her, and she swore she would tell the Archangel, and *then* where would he be? As she ranted, throwing her arms around, a light, sketchy outline of an absurdly small, otherwise invisible pair of wings began forming in the air. Pierre, pulling himself out of the snowdrift, shook his head to rid his hair of the snowflakes, then noted that the same nuns who had been frightened of Luanne before were now etching crosses over their hearts and staring at her in awe. "And you are an idiot!" she bellowed in finality. An agreeing 'pop!' sounded behind her and she froze.  
  
"And *you* lost your temper," remarked Pierre off-handedly as she turned bright red, her small pair of silver wings visible now. "Quite lovely, your wings."  
  
"Shut-up!" she wailed, and they vanished in a flurry of red hearts and silver stars.  
  
  
  
  
It was quite possibly the worst soup Harry had ever had in his entire life, and that included his mother's cooking. The fact remained that he prayed to God that if he eventually was going to throw it all up, it would be later, when he was alone. And, most hopefully, not in front of Leena. Still, he managed a smile after she smiled at him, she having taken a sip of it herself. O, God, he thought desperately, give me strength of stomach...  
  
"You said you had a niece?" he prompted, focusing on one of the two things he now knew about her current living. Hell, he thought, better than none.  
  
"Mm!" she swallowed quickly, setting her spoon on her napkin. "That's right!" She paused momentarily, taking a quick drink of her water. "You remember Naomi Flugal, right?" He nodded. "Well, apparently, Leon and she figured out that they cared for each other - a few months before I left the Blitz team. Anyway, I guess Naomi's mom found out they were living together - before they actually *got* together, if you know what I mean - and she spazzed. Somehow, she got them to attend a seminar on sinful lifestyles, which made them guilty, which, in some bizarre way I don't even want to know about, had them married in less than three months. They had the triplets about a year later - Cade, Jordan, and Roscoe." She paused again, grinning wryly. "Guess which one's the girl." Another pause. "Roscoe."  
  
Harry chocked on his drink, and Leena threw her head back, laughing unabashedly. "Roscoe?" he blinked. "They named their daughter Roscoe?"  
  
"That was my granddad's name," she giggled, her laughter subsiding. "Cade was my grandmother's."  
  
"Huh," he blinked again, "go figure."  
  
"Yeah," agreed Leena, "Naomi has the weirdest sense of humor. I haven't seen any of them in almost a year." She trailed off, staring wistfully into space. "I miss having a family around for Christmas."  
  
"So do I," Harry concurred. At her questioning look, he added, "My family's gone this year." He grimaced. "I have to design the annual Christmas bash on my own. I don't even have servants to do it for me!" he groused, sliding down a little in his chair, arms hanging by his side.  
  
Leena stared, then laughed, again, jabbing her spoon in his direction. "You," she said incredulously, a smile still on her face, "are upset because you don't have servants to plan your party for you?" She dropped her spoon on the table, clapping her hands together and laughing. "I don't even have workers at my store! I've run it for the past five years, on my own, every day but the holidays, and you can't plan a party? Oh, that is *rich*!" She continued laughing, her face scrunching up, dark pink locks bouncing with every shake of her body.   
  
Harry sulked, straightening his back and scowling. "You say that like you think I'm spoiled!" he said indignantly.  
  
"I do!" she replied cheerfully. "When *you* date a certain arrogant blonde teammate, break up with him, leave your family's Zoids team because of said break-up, start your own business, and manage to keep it going after a huge toy store opens up across the street, *then* I won't think you're spoiled!"   
  
Sometime after she had said 'break up,' Harry's face had grown thoughtful. "Broke up?" repeated Harry, slowly, and she slowly altered moods, growing serious.   
  
"Yes," she said quietly. "Bit and I broke up."  
  
"I'm," he tailed off for a moment, swallowing, "sorry, Leena."  
  
"Hey, it's okay!" she said brightly, despite a glint of pain in her eyes. "We just weren't meant for each other, I guess!"  
  
Harry said nothing.  
  
  
  
  
"What are they talking about?" Luanne hissed to Pierre, hiding behind her unfolded menu. She was still embarrassed from her display earlier. "Can't you hear them?"  
  
"Shush," he ordered, squeezing his blue eyes shut and listening carefully. When he opened them again, it was slowly; he looked almost worried.   
  
"What?" Luanne wanted to know. "What? What?"  
  
"They're talking about Bit," he sighed, resting his forehead on his palm.  
  
"Nooo!" she moaned, slouching and dropping her head onto the tabletop. "Why do they have to talk about him? They're supposed to be talking about...about..."  
  
Pierre remarked, his voice muffled by his wrist, "Perhaps we should have thought of this before we got them to meet up at the coffee shop?" He fell silent, listening once more, then smiled. "They're talking about Leon and Naomi now."  
  
"Leon and Naomi?" Luanne pursed her lips from where her cheek lay on the table, glancing up at Pierre. "Didn't we get them together a few years ago?"  
  
"Shh," he motioned with one hand, his attention obviously distracted by the conversation held by their targets. "They're talking about children."  
  
Luanne sat up like a rod, a grin forming on her face instantly. "Children, hmm?" she asked with a coy tone. "I have a plan! Let's go!" She slid out of the booth and grabbed Pierre's elbow, pulling him to his feet beside her. "We'll have to start tomorrow; we need to go see the Higher Angels about obtaining permission for a youth trick."  
  
  
  
  
"You know what?" remarked Leena out of nowhere, in the lull following their conversation about childhood dreams and mistakes. "This soup is the worst I've ever had!"  
  
Harry froze, the spoon halfway to his mouth, and grinned. "I know!" he nodded, letting his spoon plummet down into the bowl. "I didn't want to offend you if you liked it..."  
  
"And I didn't want to seem rude," Leena continued. She grinned, too.  
  
For a moment, Harry entertained the thought that she had chosen him - entertained the thought that she cared about him. He dismissed it quickly.  
  
Couldn't afford another broken heart.  
  
*  
  
End AN: Gaw, this chapter sucks. *sighs* Well, let's see what the public thinks.  
  
Anyway, the next chapter will be longer, so it will take a while to write and get out; apologies are due to everyone who is already pissed at me for taking an absurd length of time to get this chapter out. I found the disk, only to find chapter two wasn't on it, so I had to write the entire thing. [And I'll be keeping it by the computer from now on!]  
  
This chapter, crap though it may be, is dedicated to Rinon Toros, who wrote an absolutely lovely Harry/Leena fanfic entitled "Sickness," which I highly recommend. It is wonderful and it helped get me off my butt to finish the last part of this chapter. So, a major call-out to Rinon Toros-san, and a thousand hugs to everyone who reviewed!  
  
So much anti-Harry feeling all over the 'net! PallaPlease is sad...  
  
PallaPlease.   
["Stick up for the underdog." ~slogan of the "GIR Appreciation Society" (all of which is (c) to me)  
"Chickens here, chickens there! Chickens, chickens, everywhere!" ~random  
"My opinion is that my opinion is better than yours." ~An Internet bumpersticker I'm designing] 


End file.
